She and her mom are a team. I bet it was hard for both of them with Grace being a single parent while putting herself through school and working. I think Molly grew up a bit faster than most kids do. Not that Grace meant for that to happen, but sometimes that’s what life hands you. It’s funny how even through everything they went through, they managed to come out of it with a strong bond. Yet, my own mother who didn’t have to want for anything couldn’t even be bothered to have a relationship with me.
“Waiting for what?” I try to draw it out of her.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m scared,” she finally admits.
“You think your mom will be upset?” I ask her, wanting her to open up to me some.
“I don’t know.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I’ve never seen your mom ever be upset with you. She’s so sweet.” I’d kill for a mom like Molly’s. That woman would do anything for her daughter. The devotion is endless.
“I just don’t want to worry her or rock the boat. She’s so happy and in love.”
“I get it.” I glance over at her.
I’m always worried people will think I’m going to turn out like my mom. My father got stuck with her for more years than he wanted because of me. It’s why I try to be perfect at everything I do. I’m graduating at the top of my class. I was captain of my cheer team and the volleyball team. Everything I did I put my all into so my dad and Asher didn’t worry over me.
My phone goes off as we pull into the driveway. I put the car into park and check my messages.
“I’ve got to take care of something,” I tell Molly.
“Okay. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the ride.” She slips out of the car, heading into the house.
Mom: Honey, please. Come and see me.
Chase: I miss you baby girl.
The whirl of emotions I have from seeing both texts is eating me alive. What are the freaking odds that both my mom and Chase have been texting me all week? I’ve made some small talk with my mom. She’s been nice. Remorseful at times. Even told me she was proud of all that I’ve accomplished. But words can’t change the past.
I know I should block her, but I can’t bring myself to do it. The little girl inside of me still wants her love. What is happening? The two people I’ve longed for for so long, now want my attention, and honestly, all I want to do is run. I don’t want to face any of it.
I respond to Chase first, my mood not a good one. Maybe this will get him to stop texting me. I’ve been holding back all week because honestly, I’ve been enjoying seeing his texts light up my screen each day.
Me: Why don't you focus on missing the gorgeous dark-haired woman?
Chase: Dark-haired woman?
His response is quick. I roll my eyes.
Me: The one you were at the bar with last week at my father’s birthday party. Are there so many of them that you forget?
That last part is a dig. The truth is I want to know if that’s the woman the other girls had been talking about when they said Chase was already promised to be married to someone.
Chase: There is only you. I want to see you.
I pull my lip gloss out of my bag and give my hair a nice fluff before I snap about ten pictures, picking the best one. I know this isn’t what he means, but I’m enjoying this little back and forth we’re having. He’s chasing after me for some reason, and I’m not sure why. I hit send on the picture before I text my mom back, agreeing to meet her.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing outside of a cute coffee and tea shop. I spot my mom the second I step inside. She rushes over to me, giving me air kisses on my cheeks. Her Chanel perfume fills up the space around us, overpowering the smell of coffee and buttery treats. She grips my shoulders, staring down at me.
I’m still in my school uniform, so I’m in flat shoes while she’s in heels. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t wear them. Once I went into her closet wanting to play dress up and she’d lost her mind. I’d never made that mistake again.
“You’re so gorgeous. Wow, you look just like me.”
“Thanks.” I give her the best smile I can muster, not sure what to do with that compliment. Was it for her or me?
“Come sit. I ordered us some tea.” I glance toward the display of food in the glass cases. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll regret it later,” she says before I can suggest getting something to eat. I didn’t have lunch. They let us out right before. “So how are things?” she asks when I sit down.